Indochine in a BOWL

The aromatic steam rising from a bowl of moreish noodle soup phõ is Erin O’Dwyer’s most striking memory of Indochina

We ate phõ everywhere we went in Indochina. Indeed, I’m barely able to write this without hankering for the sweet-and-sour taste sensation this soup combines with the bite of fresh lime, the fire of fresh chilli and the cool soothe of crisp bean sprouts.

I can still taste the phõ I had at the rooftop hotel restaurant in downtown Battambang, Cambodia – its clear broth weighing heavy with fresh-picked lotus. I remember squatting over toddler-sized coloured plastic chairs on a street corner in Saigon – the hum of peak-hour traffic swirling around us as we sipped and slurped on raw beef phõ. And I still imagine choking on the dust that accompanied our bowl of plain noodle phõ, apparently absent of meat or vegetables, served at a humble truck stop on the roadside along the way to Savannakhet in Laos.

Mostly though I remember the phõ in Hanoi. Every street corner, it seems, has a stall. The best are near the railway stations – a blessed stopover for bleary workers and travellers alike. In the early morning, the steam rises like morning mist and young suit-wearing men crouch beside you, all slurping in unison and with appreciation. If your chopstick technique is not up to scratch, you’ll get pointers on how to eat. And when you finish the bowl, a tiny shot of strong sweet coffee will arrive before you even ask.

The origins of the Vietnamese national dish are hazy, but scholars and aficionados agree its story began in Northern Vietnam in the mid-1880s.

The name phõ (pronounced fur or fahr) is probably derived from the French pot au feu – literally ‘pot on the fire’, a traditional beef soup or stew. In Vietnam, until the arrival of the French, cattle were predominantly used in the fields. But when the French ate beef, the locals followed suit. And after 1954 when the country was divided into North and South Vietnam, locals fleeing the communist regime took their native dish southwards.

In 2003, a major seminar at the Sofitel Metropole in Hanoi was organised to discuss the origins of phõ. Nguyen Dinh Rao, president of UNESCO’s Gastronomy Club in Hanoi, told the gathering he believed the name came from an earthenware oven known as coffre-feu in French. Didier Corlou, the acclaimed French-born former executive chef at the Metropole, agreed with the French connection. But he argued the toss on pot au feu, pointing out the similarities between the Vietnamese and French dishes.

“Its identity was created and developed throughout different periods, from the colonisation to the war years and the US embargo,” he said at the time. “Today, it has become the pride of a nation. Phõ, the best soup of the world, the representative of Vietnamese gastronomy, is equivalent to paella in Spain or the double pancake of Brittany.”

Whatever the true origins, it’s clear that rice noodle and spices were first imported from China. Vietnamese cooks then began to blend the Chinese, French and local cooking styles. You’ll need all your gourmet skills to imitate it at home – French (for grilling the ginger and onion), Chinese (for using exotic spices such as star anise, cinnamon and cardamom) and Vietnamese (for blending and simmering fish sauce).

In Vietnam though, no one cooks phõ at home. There are enough fresh cheap stalls that natives don’t feel the need. Only outside Vietnam – in refugee camps and new migrant communities – did women learn to cook phõ and families began hoarding secret recipes.

Indeed, phõ might well be described as the Vietnamese equivalent of Jewish chicken soup.

It became even more important as the Vietnamese diaspora were scattered around the globe, escaping the communist regime.

“Phõ is so common and ubiquitous in Vietnam that I used to take it for granted,” says Cuong Phu Le, a Vietnamese-Australian phõ expert who in 2007 organised the “I Love Phõ” exhibition at the Casula Powerhouse in Liverpool, Sydney. “Like most Vietnamese, we only become mad about phõ when we are displaced physically and spiritually.”

For those game enough to try at home, the rules are relatively simple. The broth must be clear and fragrant. It must have a perfectly blended spiced-meat aroma and be boiling hot when served. Noodles should be soft, yet firm, and the beef tender. Garnishes must be beautifully arranged on top or served on the side.

Northern-style phõ is plainer and made with fewer ingredients. It’s usually beef and served without bean sprouts. Southern-style pho is much more vibrant – always served with sprouts, fresh basil and a range of herbs in season. Chicken, seafood, duck, pork and vegetable varieties are always on the menu.

Further afield from Vietnam, local chefs have come up with their own regional versions. In Cambodia, try the fish phõ, or phõ with lotus. In Laos, bitter-flavoured rice noodle soups are served with sticky rice and spicy green papaya salads.

Be sure you always slurp. And never expect to find the same flavours twice. The joy of phõ, like the flavour of the Indochine, is unity in diversity.

Phõ by Chef Didier Corlou (serves 10)

Ingredients:
• 1kg phõ noodles (banh pho)
• 1kg beef bones
• 400g beef rump
• 20g shallots
• 30g ginger
• 100g spring onions
• Equal quantities of star anise, cinnamon stick and black cardamom
• Equal quantities of fresh herbs, including sweet mint, coriander, nuoc mam (fish sauce) and fresh chilli
• Salt and pepper
• Limejuice
• 3 litres of water

Preparation:
• Wash bones and meat. Drain beef rump on absorbent paper.
• Grill ginger and shallots. Crush star anise and black cardamom, then place in a piece of clean cloth with cinnamon. Tie well.
• Add beef bones to three litres of cold water and cook on high heat. Bring to the boil, skim. Add spice bag and beef rump. Season with nuoc mam and salt.
• Simmer on low for two and a half hours. Remove spices when the stock has become fragrant.
• Remove beef bone and meat. Rest the meat and drain it well. Simmer stock and check seasoning for taste.
• Slice herbs, spring onion and beef
• Blanche phõ noodles quickly in boiling water, then divide into individual bowls. Arrange meat in each bowl, with onion and herbs on top. Pour over boiling stock. Serve immediately with limejuice and sliced chilli.

Adapted from a recipe by Didier Corlou, former executive chef of the Sofitel Metropole Hotel and chef at La Verticale in Hanoi. Recipe produced in 2002 for the Delegation of the European Commission to Vietnam.